


Dalliance Dance

by cherry_paraluman17



Series: Chocolate Milk Glass Chronicles [1]
Category: Arctic Monkeys, I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco
Genre: 50s, 60s, 70s, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Bisexual, F/M, Freeform, Gay, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Science Fiction, Y E A R N I N G, men have colonized outer space, non-fetishizing of mlm relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25528375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry_paraluman17/pseuds/cherry_paraluman17
Summary: Alex Turner, musician, icon, raging alcoholic. He hides a secret past using women, liquor, and drugs to forget. But the past always finds the way to haunt him. Everything in Alex’s life, from the way he moved, the way he spoke, the way he sang, wrote, fucked, it all came to being because of one man. A man he’d loved like no other.Dallon Weekes doesn’t care about fame, he only thought of the songs he wrote, what they meant, and that was it. It mattered not to him whether anyone listened to it or not, he cared not for the perks of fortune and untold riches that came with being famous. After all, he only really wanted his songs to reach one man, a man who’d wronged him. Took his best songs and left, never to return. Dallon wanted this man to hurt.Ripped apart, Alex is shoved into stardom and Dallon... Dallon is left behind.
Relationships: Alex Turner/Arielle Vandenberg, Alex Turner/Dallon Weekes, Alexa Chung/Alex Turner (Musician), Miles Kane/Alex Turner, Taylor Bagley/Alex Turner
Series: Chocolate Milk Glass Chronicles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1849621
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so in this universe, humans have colonized the moon and Mars so don't be confused!! This was inspired by Stanley Kubrick films, the movie Her, James Baldwin, Dark/Light Academia, Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino, IDKHBTFM and many references to classical literature, though this doesn't take itself too seriously.

# Dalliance Dance

## Dalliance- meaning: a brief love affair.

## 

Serendipity (Eng.)- meaning: Finding something beautiful without looking for it 

Chapter One 

August 1, 1968 

New York, USA 

Alex’s POV 

I dreamed that I was at the beach again, our beach. The sky was grey and overcast. I could even taste the whisper of salt on my lips. But none of those things mattered, because I was with you. The ocean was as blue as your eyes, your skin was cold, the sun was gone, and we were in love. You and I, against the world. 

Then I woke up, the empty white sheets were reminiscent of the waves, and I... I was alone. 

I've gotten used to the fact that I'm alone for quite some time now. In fact, it’s made life quite comfortable for me. No one to tell me to stop dating girls left and right, no one to tell me to stop drinking. 

My mind, drifts back to another dream. It felt so real, I could almost feel his touch- 

A loud knocking echoed through my hotel room, I looked at the clock on top of the bed, twelve pm. Well. Colin’s going to kill me. 

I open the door to the hall and meet an angry pair of grey eyes, “D’you know what fucking time it is?!” Colin screeches. Fuck. 

“Good morning to you too, Colin.” I say half-smiling, half-waiting for him to react violently. Colin was a massive, vulgar man, could knock me out with a single jab if he wanted to. Not unless he wants to keep being my manager, though. 

“Calm down, I’m only-” I turn back to look at the clock again “-thirty minutes late. Not as bad as last time.” I smile, patting his buff shoulders. “Plus, Matt was there, he could’ve filled in for me.” 

“Whatever,” Colin seethes, “but this is the last time. Got it?” he presses. 

“Understood.” I try to slide pass him through the door successfully. “I wholeheartedly promise.” He does nothing but lets me through and roll his eyes, smirking. “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” I ask as we walk towards the elevator. 

“If you weren’t drunk all the goddamn time, you’d know.” he replies. 

“Well that is a dilemma, isn’t it my friend?” 

He sighs, “Today you had rehearsal from eleven-thirty to twelve,” he glares. “But, since you upped and fucked that up, now you get to go to an interview.” 

“Ugh, an interview?” I grouse. 

He chuckles, “Well, you get what you pay for.” As he presses the elevator button, I look at my reflection. I’ve aged since the events that occurred on that beach. The beard does not help. I was met with tired brown eyes and messy brown hair that almost reached my neck. It’s a hippie phase of sorts I’m going through. 

Ding. 

The doors slide open and we’re greeted with Nick, Jamie, and Matthew. “Morning,” I grumble, “got a fag?” 

Matthew chuckles, then reaches for his back pockets for a cigarette. “You’re gonna die like this, you know that, right?” he says as he hands it to me anyway. 

“I know,” I shrug. “It’s going to make me as infamous as much as Hendrix then.” I mutter with the cigarette between my lips. 

He laughs, and Andy just shakes his head. The three of us have been friends since ninth grade and been in a band since tenth. 

God, it’s been fifteen years, huh? 

The lobby television plays the news, it was about the newest five-star hotel on the moon. 

It wasn’t until we were out the door that it hits me, I’m still in New York. We’ve been touring this last year. It’s been two years since I’ve been in Salt Lake City, it’s been two years since I left Dallon. 

They talk amongst themselves as I drift across dimensions and into the past, 

July 12, 1953 

Sheffield, England 

“Matthew knock it off!” Andy shouts, and I’ve been taken out of my daze and made aware of the blazing summer heat. We were at the playground near our houses, under the slide to keep cover from the warmth. 

“Shut it, Andy!” replies Matthew. He was met with a glare and a middle finger. He laughs but stops spraying him with the water bottle anyways. Then he notices something, and so do I. A creature wearing a red tank top, he was sitting down at the dirt, his back against the monkey bars. 

We were discussing the future of our band, that someday we might be able to break out of Sheffield, maybe even England. Typical naïve dreams of a sixteen-year-old. We thought we were so great, revolutionizing a new sound, different from the boy bands that came before us. A part of a new budding movement. I remember, we were trying to polish our sound, making it so that we didn’t seem like a bunch of amateurs. To no avail. We were also discussing a new song we wrote that we were stumped on the lyrics with. It had this melancholic sound to it, like an old love that has come to pass. I’ve written some good songs here and there, but I was no poet. Not yet, at least. 

“Hey, it’s that kid again.” Jamie says, as he points towards that familiar silhouette. 

Dallon. 

I’m pretty sure that was his name, we’ve never talked or even really looked at each other for more than three seconds, but something about him always... captivated me. Maybe it was because he was an American exchange student, the first one we’ve seen around these parts, a foreign specimen for us to observe. Or maybe it was the poems I saw him write for school, or the way I'd overhear him talk, but I needed to talk to him, right at this moment. Only, I didn’t even know why? Why's he so important to me? What about him is so captivating? I watch him, he’s reading a book from what I can tell, maybe a poetry book? I wanted to know. I wanted to know everything about him there is to know. But there’s only one way of doing that. And I knew. 

I got up and approached him, uncertainty walking behind me like a shadow. 

“Hey! What are you doing?” asks Matt, but I ignore him. 

Once I reached Dallon I met his eyes, surprising since he’s so very tall. But I do it anyways. I reach out my hand towards him and say with a stern look on my face, “I’m Alex.” 

He looks down at me, then at my hand. Finally, he reaches for my hand slowly, and... shakes it. A smile was on his face, and it was at that moment I realized how blue his eyes were. 

“I’m Dallon.” he replies. And I forgot for a second that he was American, and the accent surprised me. “But I’m guessing you already knew that.” he chuckles. 

“Yeah- I mean yes.” I was yet again woken up from another dream. “I saw your poems. And I thought they were really good so, I thought that maybe- you’d want to write a song for us? Not that you have to, of course! But yeah. Yes.” I managed to babble in one single breath. 

“A song? What for?” he quirks a dark, delicate brow. 

“For our band, maybe you’ve heard of it?” I reply, trying my darndest to keep cool under the blazing sun. 

“Hm. Are you perhaps Apollyon?” he asks. 

“Yes, we named the band after, uh-” My mind drew a blank. 

“The angel of the abyss, yeah. That’s why you look so familiar.” he interrupts. And thank God for that too, because I completely forgot. 

“So, you’ve heard of us?” 

He rolls his eyes and chuckles, “Everyone in Sheffield has heard about you guys.” I like the way he pronounced it, Sheffield. He licks his lips, “So, do you have the melody?” 

“Uh- what?” I need to stop getting startled. 

He laughs, oh good. I made him laugh. “For the song you want me to write.” 

“Oh, yes. Only I can’t exactly tell you it?” 

He gets up and pats the dirt off his corduroy shorts. “Then show me.” 

We take Dallon to Matt’s basement (much to his annoyance) and Andy reaches for the bass, Jamie and I reach for the guitars, Matthew takes a seat behind the drums. 

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?” Matt asks. 

And I reply, “Because,” I plug the guitar to the amp. “Dallon is going to write the lyrics for our song. Right?” 

I meet his eyes once again and he nods, “Maybe.” he replies. 

And that was all it took for us to play our parts. 

The heat under the house was unbearable, but I can manage. So should they. I really, desperately wanted to impress Dallon. I remember, I tried so hard not to make it obvious, for the first time in my life, I was scared to play. All for an audience of one. We start playing and I miss a couple of notes, but I tried my best to make it work. The heat made me aware of the sweat forming under my skin and scalp. Made me aware of Dallon’s stare, and his eyes, his big blue eyes. I could hear Matt playing sluggishly, and Andy also missed a few beats. Nevertheless, we persevered. 

We finish playing, I was slick with sweat, beads were forming on my upper lip and I wipe them away. 

I glance behind me and see the other two panting as well. Then we look at Dallon, the look on his face was indecipherable. 

We sit in silence for a minute, then... he smiles. 

I breathe a sigh of relief, but he walks away. I was shocked, took the guitar and placed it haphazardly on the floor. 

“Hey! Didn’t you like it?” I run to catch up to him towards the door of the house, “Where are you going?” 

He stops and looks at me and I was startled, he just looks at me for a few seconds, again his face was unreadable. 

“I’m going to give you a song.” he smiles. “You wanna come to my house and see?” 

“Sure.” I drag out. 

“Follow me.” 

We reach his host family’s house a little at the edge of town. It was a considerable size, stone walls, green roof, it looked like any other house you’d find here. 

His host parents weren’t home, a fact I pointed out, to which he says that they’re never around. I asked if he had any real siblings, to which he said no. Any attempt I made at small talk was met with indifference. 

I sigh quietly, hoping he didn’t hear. We reach his room. I don’t know if I expected what I saw but the walls were covered ceiling to floor with books. Books of every size and color. 

He catches my astonished staring. 

“Yeah, it was lucky enough they were bookworms too. This place used to be a study, but they turned it to a room to accommodate me. They said that I could take any book I wanted, so I did.” He points to a pile of books. “These are my favorites.” 

Looking at his pile I saw a considerable number of familiar names like: Austen, Wilde, Nabokov, Golding, and many others. 

“Huh,” I say. “we read a lot of the same books.” 

He chuckles, “Yeah my tastes are a bit basic and classical. Not that you’re basic, I'm saying I’m basic. Not that there’s anything wrong with... you know what- forget it.” He blushes. 

I laugh, “You blush easy.” 

“Do I?” he meets my eyes. “You learn something new every day.” He picks up The Picture of Dorian Gray and asks, “Ever read this one?” 

“Yes. I remember Wilde’s last words being about the hideous wallpaper.” 

We laugh and go to his study table. 

“While you guys were playing, I remember an old poem I wrote that might fit into the melody.” he grabs a journal from atop the pile sitting on his desk. “I don’t have a title for it yet but it’s about a brief love affair, it was all I could think about while you were playing. You’re a really good player by the way.” 

“T-thank you. Do you play too?” I ask. 

“Yes, actually. I play the bass and the piano. My mother taught me.” 

“Do you miss her?” I ask, hoping this time he won’t shut me away. 

He goes quiet for a second, and dread fills me up. “Yeah.” He looks away. “I guess I do.” 

I made the mental note never to talk to him about home or his family. 

He turns the radio on, and a booming voice announces the successful trip to Mars, and that soon, humans might live there. 

I weigh the consequences of leaving our planet and colonizing one that we’re not even built to survive in naturally. Dallon wakes me up from another dream, yet again. 

I snap back to reality.


	2. Melancholy

Melancholy (Eng.)- meaning: A feeling of pensive sadness, typically with no obvious cause. 

Chapter Two 

August 1, 1971 

New York, USA 

Alex’s POV 

The five of us were waiting for a taxi. Took us nearly 20 minutes for one to arrive, which was great for me for that meant more daydreaming about the distant past. Four of us squeezing together at the back. 

The car ride was therapeutic. I think, and think, and think, about all the possibilities had I chosen a different path. Maybe in a different universe, I was an average man, doing average things, who works an average job. Maybe I was married to an average woman, who gives birth to children of my own. Or maybe I would simply be happy, happy to live a life. Happy to wake up in the morning and didn’t ask anybody anything in return for kindness. 

How horrible, I thought to myself. 

We arrive at the destination where the interview will be held. But before that I had to call Taylor, to make sure she knows that I’m still alive, unfortunately. She and I had this untold agreement, that we would be a couple only when I’m around, and only if I called. Only if I was lonely, and only if I was high. 

“Hello?” Her voice rings through the phone. “Alex?” 

“Yeah, it’s me.” I mumble. “How are you?” 

“Good! I dyed my hair again.” She says in a way I could tell was forced excitement. 

“Oh, what color?” This charade goes on for a couple more minutes until it was finally time to conduct the interview. 

The interviewer is a ruggedly handsome, middle-aged man wearing a loud purple suit. He had a mop of bleached-blond hair atop his head. And by the looks of it, a wedding band on his left hand. I look at him again and he looks back at me, with a familiar look I know far too well. 

It seems like are interviewer is playing a game, much like I. Well, this ought to be interesting. 

“Am I the only one who got a gay vibe from that guy?” Matt asks. To which Nick only chuckles at. 

“He had a wedding band on.” Jamie replied. 

“Could be in the closet.” Nick shrugged. 

Oh, so I’m not the only one who noticed. They didn’t have anything against men who like men per se, but they’d much rather keep it out of the band. An on-going argument we still have. 

You see, I am not at all unfamiliar with the touch of a man, something I had the privilege of not being ashamed of. But lately I’ve only been seeking female approval. Must be something to do with age. An innate want for a man of my age to want to settle down, maybe start a family. 

But who said anything about following what you were born to do? 

My stomach grumbles, and I am made aware of the fact that I had not eaten breakfast nor lunch. And that last night’s dinner was retched into a toilet bowl last night, courtesy of the alcohol. 

I propose a mid-afternoon meal and the rest of them agree, we head to the nearest restaurant, and I order the biggest meal they could serve. 

We were positioned right next to a window, perfect for people watching, a hobby of mine I tend to annoy strangers with. Especially New Yorkers. 

After that, we head back to the building. Looking inside store windows from the outside, as I pass through a bookstore. I separate from the group, telling them I’d catch up and head inside. 

I buy a copy of Giovanni’s Room specifically for the beautiful cover. I walk outside. And bump into a stranger. 

He glares at me and walks off. I've gotten quite used to that. I notice his eyes. Blue. But not quite as blue as- 

“Alex!” Nick shouts from across the street. “Come on!” 

I walk towards him, mindful of the cars. “Hey, why’d you wait up?” 

“You were taking too long,” he replies. “What’d you get?” 

“Just a book.” 

And that was the end of it. 

We went to the venue in Brooklyn, it was small compared to the ones in New York. Which is why I loved it. And it was obvious too, as I got roaring drunk as soon as we’d arrived. I was wearing a dark blue suit with orang lapels, the jacket for which I lost along the way. Did some coke in the bathroom, got drunk some more. Hooked up with a girl in the aforementioned bathroom. We played as well as anyone would expect, and that was the end of it. 

The next day, I’m finally back at my hotel room, and as I lay on the bed stark naked, I feel like I’m floating on an ocean. It felt like I was being cleansed of my sins. 

The pills I took made me feel woozy, and though I couldn’t reach it, I felt like I knew exactly what the texture of what the ceiling was like. 

I doze off. And a memory plays. Like a record. 

August 10, 1954 

Sheffield, England 

“Alexander, I swear to God.” Dallon says as he dodges the paper planes I send his way. We were at the grounds at school, “studying”. But Dallon was the only one taking it seriously. I was leaning against Matt, the five of us all huddled up together on the floor. I laugh but stop. I study his concentrating face. I’ve never noticed it before but he was beautiful. A slightly androgynous face that made him so popular among girls. It didn’t help that in our school uniforms made him look dapper in a way none of the others could pull off. His staggering height and his rugged beauty commanded stares from anyone and everyone we met along the way. Regardless of gender, they stared. And that made me nervous because I, in a way, wanted him all for myself but I didn’t even know it yet. I compared myself to him, he was tall and so was I, he was 6’3”, I was 5’10”. He had chestnut brown hair and so did I. but the most glaring difference were our eyes, his was a beautiful blue and mine was a common brown. His face was soft and spotless, and I was riddled with acne. I felt... something for him, only back then I didn’t know what it was. Now I do. 

There were times when we’d be eft alone. Dallon and I. And we’d exchange longing glances, touch each other with full knowledge of what it meant. We'd talk, and it felt like we were exchanging vows. 

Vows to never forget each other, to have each other in our hearts forever, but it didn’t need to be said aloud for us to hold each other accountable. 

I keep staring until he notices and laughs. “Do I have something on my face?” 

“Yeah a whole lotta ugly.” Jamie chortles. 

To which he only sticks out his tongue at. We were listening to a hand-held radio, the first of its kind. Cost me nearly 40 pounds, worth it though, because it meant I could listen to music any time I wanted. I saved u money for it when it was first announced, I had some leftover money from previous Christmases and birthdays, and I just added in the little I was given when we played at venues. We’ve become more popular, once we even heard our song Dalliance Dance on the same radio. 

I remember the time we titled it; I was alone with Dallon in his room. It was raining, and I had stayed the night. The two of us had snuck beers into his room and got drunk. We danced like a couple to Unchained Melody by the Everly Brothers, laughing our heads of in between staring wistfully into each other’s eyes. We decided to hang out on the roof. We wrote a couple more songs and decide to refine an old one about a love affair. 

“Y’know there’s a word for a brief love affair. It’s dalliance.” 

I thought to myself and wrote down on the top of the page Dalliance Dance. 

I notice his staring, and I smile. 

“You going to miss me when I’m gone?” He asked me one time with a melancholic look in his face. 

“No.” I said bluntly and he punches me lightly on the shoulder and laughs. 

“It’s strange,” He remarks. “I’ve gotten so used to everything here that home doesn’t even feel like home anymore.” He looks off into the distance. 

It took me fifteen years but now I knew what he meant, “-That perhaps home is not a place, but simply an irrevocable condition.” 

I think about him, and the things he made me feel. I knew exactly what those feelings were, and I wasn’t afraid of them. Not one bit. Why should I be ashamed of something as pure as gold, as soft as silk, and as strong as steel? 

I pick up an empty can and throw it as far as I could off the roof. Dallon does the same. His went farther than mine. 

“Ugh.” 

“It’s not my fault.” He laughs. 

“Sure, it’s not.” I stare into his eyes, the moonlight made them even bluer than ever. We laugh yet again; it was at this moment that I fell in love with the feeling of being drunk. 

I was staring into his face, his eyes, his high aristocratic nose, his plump lower lip. I think about the idea of being loved by him. Even if just for a second, I may be able to look into his eyes and see his pupils dilate with affection. That I might be able to feel his embrace. I’ve been aware of my feelings for quite some time now. And now I want to do something stupid and act on it. 

But I wasn’t that stupid.


	3. Acaronar

Acaronar (Cat.)- meaning: To pull someone closer 

Chapter Three 

June 20, 1956 

Alex’s POV 

The person beside me has a loud watch, tick tock ticking and it’s driving me insane. I was on a plane to Utah to see Dallon. I was nineteen. 

When I had arrived, he pulls me into the tightest hug. I stare, he looked as beautiful as ever. 

“How’ve you been?” He asks. We were inside his dad’s old 1947 blue beetle. 

“Great. You wouldn’t believe what Matt’s up to; thinks he’s fallen in love with this bird we met at the pub.” I say. 

He keeps his eyes on the road and laughs, “God, I’ve missed the British vocabulary.” he says, “Americans have absolutely nothing going for them.” 

“Now, don’t bring yourself down like that.” I reply, “You’re right, but you don’t have to say it.” 

He laughs some more and sighs, “I’ve missed you and your stupid face.” 

He tells me about his parents, and now I know why he doesn’t talk about them. They were devout Mormons, as strict as a parent could possibly be, he explained. But I was told not to worry because they were out of town. 

“Horrible isn’t it?” He asks me as he catches me looking at it. 

“Awful.” I say. 

He laughs, “I wasn’t allowed to read most books, didn’t even know how much I loved reading until I came to the UK. If they had known the things I’ve done there I would’ve been sent home and locked me up in my room. I wasn’t even allowed to listen to music but my friend Ryan had a radio in his room and we’d listen to it as much as we possibly could.” 

I hum as I fall back to rest on his bed, “I’m bored, want to take me somewhere?” I ask. 

He stares at me for a few seconds, “Sure.” 

And of we were off to secluded place he called Pistachio Beach. 

It was almost three PM. The sky was grey and overcast. I had the taste of salt on my lips. But none of those things mattered, because I was with him. The ocean was as blue as his eyes, his skin was cold against mine, the sun was gone, and I was in love. 

I remember thinking that I wanted him so badly to find delight in me. As I find delight in having honey in my tea. As he delights in having no sugar nor cream in his coffee. As the birds delight in singing, and the leaves in falling. I wanted him to embrace me as a part of his soul. 

We watch as a rocket full of passengers take them to the moon. And I think to myself how great it’d be to someday etch my name into the stars and go to outer space. 

I looked wistfully into his eyes; we were sitting on a log, our toes buried within the sand. 

“What,” he laughs. 

“Nothing.” I answer. 

He leans in, “You know, I haven't been completely honest with you Alex.” He pulls away and looks at the sea. 

“Well now’s your chance I mean- we are alone. Yes?” 

He laughs, a deep, throaty laugh. He inhales the salt-filled air then exhales. “I like you Alex, I really do.” 

“Yeah, I like me too.” 

“I’m being serious. I- I like you.” He whispers. I could barely hear him against the heavy wind blowing his hair and billowing his white shirt. “And not the way I like my other friends, I mean-” 

“Yes, I know. I like you too.” I whisper back a little louder. 

The beginning of Unchained Melody plays in the background from the radio of the ‘47 beetle in the distance, and for a little while this felt like a scene from a film. 

“No, Alex.” He laughs. “I meant-” 

“I know what you mean, Dallon. I like you that way too.” 

He stares incredulously. “Really? Wow, really?” He chuckles to himself. “I mean, why??” 

I laugh and look into his eyes. “You’re really asking me that? I thought it was obvious.” 

“I’m- not good with this whole ‘feelings’ thing.” He admits. 

“Neither am I, yet here we are.” 

He laughs, once again. “Here we are.” 

He leans in, hesitates. 

“Go for it.” I whisper. 

He closes the gap between our mouths, and I melt. His tongue slips into my mouth and it was euphoric. Never has anything felt righter than this. This, this is what I was meant to do. my hands find its way under his shirt and his hands finds its way on my lap. I moan, he groans. We pull apart, he chuckles, and so do I. 

We stare into each other's eyes knowingly. Nothing was ever going to be the same ever again. We kiss again, slower. Like any minute now we were going to be ripped apart and never see each other again. One thing leads to another and now we’re inside the car, him on top of me. He pulls my shirt off and I do the same to him. He unbuttons my jeans. I gasp for air and grab his wrist. He puts his mouth against the head and I groan. I bite my hand and he takes it all the way in until it reaches the back of his throat. God, it feels too good. A new unknown song plays on the radio, he touches me and I whimper. He keeps touching me until I'm over the edge, bobs his head up and down, and I burst. Shaking, I grab his face to kiss him hotly. 

He moans and I could taste myself on his tongue. 

“You’re good at this.” I gasp. 

“Well, I had some practice while you were gone.” 

A shadow passes over my face. “Oh?” I quirk an eyebrow. 

He laughs and my frown deepens. “Well, if you’d told me earlier, I would have saved myself up for you.” 

I chuckle. “I’m kidding.” I wasn’t kidding. The thought of him with anyone other than me made my blood boil, but I tried not to make it obvious. 

“Want me to return the favour?” I ask, he laughs and hugs me tightly. Him still on top of me. 

“Let’s just stay like this for a while.” He buries his face into my neck. 

“I love you.” I say. 

He gets up, looks at me and smiles, “I love you too.” 

I wake up. 

August 1, 1971 

New York, USA 

Alex’s POV 

I have a raging headache. The only solution is more alcohol. I look at the clock, six-thirty AM. I sigh. Too early, even for me. 

I get up, and decide to go downstairs for some breakfast. 

I get a plate of pancakes and eggs. I sit down to eat, and I catch the eye of a beautiful woman whom I later take up to my room for an early rendezvous. 

I wake up again later, ten o’clock. The woman whose name I never caught already left, and here I was again. Alone. 

I whistle the tune of Unchained Melody to the best of my abilities, and leave the room, looking for more things to waste my time on. Then it hits me. I turn the place upside down to find the book, and I sit down to read. 

I must’ve gotten to chapter five until I hear a faint knocking on my door. I open it, it was housekeeping. 

God, who knew that the life of a Rockstar could be this stale? 

I decide that I’ve wasted my time long enough and head downstairs to Nick’s room, whom was still asleep, so I went to Jamie’s. No answer. Matt was nowhere to be found and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with Colin. 

In the end, I decided to call Louise. Busy. 

I had a number memorized in my head yet I completely forgot who’s it was, so I decide to call it. 

“Hello?” Of course. “Hello-o??” I hang up. 

Someday, but not today. 

I think of what he might look like now, maybe he has crow’s feet under his eyes, maybe he’s paler. Then I wonder who he’s with, and I ache. I hope he’s happy, and I hope he hates me, still. I wanted him to hate me so much that every time he hears his songs on the radio, he thinks of me. And the perverse things I’ve done to him. I took his songs, left without saying goodbye. I didn’t even pay the price for it, on the contrary, his songs made me famous. 

I reminisce. But there was no point. He was gone. 

So was I.


End file.
